


Ascension

by Kaneko



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-14
Updated: 2005-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 16:20:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaneko/pseuds/Kaneko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the day that JC ascended, the sun shone brilliantly. Everyone glowed under it, and even the runway tarmac sparkled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ascension

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always to Giddy, Merry, Julad, and Cesca for fixing, and to Linda, Georgina, and torch for support.
> 
> This is fiction.

On the day that JC ascended, the sun shone brilliantly. Everyone glowed under it, and even the runway tarmac sparkled. The whole world seemed freshly minted.

Chris had expected to hate it, but he ended up having a pretty good time. For one thing, there was a lot of free food, and _good_ food: hotdog and taco food - not the weird expensive stuff JC usually liked. And for another thing, the ceremony was spectacular, with marching bands, grinding dancers, camels.

JC ascended like he did everything - gracefully and with an undercurrent of sexuality. At the end, he stood alone with his wings raised stiffly behind him. His voice was heavenly.

He put on a good show, everyone agreed. Lance in particular couldn't stop gushing about the fireworks. The only awkward moment came right at the end, when JC came over to say goodbye. He shuffled his feet a bit, and blurted out "Later, dawg" to Justin. Then he hugged Lance and Joey and finally, Chris.

"Guess this is it," Chris said. He pressed his nose into JC's hair. It smelled like burnt sparklers. From the fireworks, he thought.

"See ya, man," JC whispered in his ear.

Chris pulled back and squished his mouth up into what he hoped looked like a smile. "Later," he said. It was only a bit croaky.

JC grinned at him, his face still sweaty from dancing. And then he was gone.

***

It wasn't like it was unexpected.

The wings had been a giveaway of course, but JC had also been extremely - in Chris's opinion, excessively - kind and generous in the weeks leading up to the event.

It was almost ridiculous, Chris thought - JC practically throwing himself at little old ladies as they crossed the street, and putting every single thing he owned up on eBay. Even his bobbleheads had gone to charity. It was all a bit tacky really.

***

Chris thought it might have been different if JC had stayed gone, but he kept coming back. The first time he did it, Chris was moping in his den in front of Sports Center with his pants half-open, jerking off.

JC appeared in front of him in a clap of thunder and a blaze of white light. It was almost half time and the Steelers were down 9 points, so it wasn't exactly an unwelcome interruption. Still, it was kind of awkward. Plus, when Chris leapt back in fright, his fist clenched reflexively around his cock and that hurt. Kind of a lot.

"Oops," JC said. He clapped his hand over his mouth. "You want me to come back?"

"Damn it, JC!" Chris glared at him, and hunched miserably around his aching dick. He suspected JC was giggling behind his hand. "Just. God. Can't you knock?"

"Oh." JC lowered his hand, and looked thoughtful. "I'm not actually sure. The doors I go through now aren't exactly on the material pla-" He looked up and met Chris's eyes. "I mean. Sure. Sure. No problem, man."

Chris tried to keep glaring as he stood up and tucked himself back in, but JC had always been hard to be mad at. And truth be told, Chris was just relieved to see him looking as corporeal as ever, and - with his pink and blue leopard-skin pants - with pretty much the same sense of fashion even.

"So um." Chris raised his eyebrows meaningfully. "They're cool with you dropping in and stuff?"

"Oh sure!" JC said. "I mean there are rules and stuff." He rolled his eyes. JC hated rules. They stifled his creativity. "But I can come visit."

"Cool," Chris said. "So, what've you been up to?" he said politely.

"Uh. Mostly, I'm not supposed to say." JC grimaced. "Rules."

"Oh," Chris said.

It shouldn't have been weird - it was just JC - but Chris couldn't stop looking at the wings. He found himself scratching his arm, his chin, his shoulder. He tapped his fingers against his leg, and still they stood there in a weird silence - broken only by JC saying things like "The weather's good - kind of like LA," and Chris nodding politely and saying "Sounds real nice", like JC was some stranger.

And then suddenly the Redskins were scoring yet another touchdown, and JC hooted and cheered as obnoxiously as he always had. "In. Your. Face!" he crowed at Chris.

"Oh please," Chris snorted.

After that, they were still quiet, watching the game, but it was a better kind of quiet. In the next ad, Chris bumped his hip against JC's gently. "They treating you good?" he said.

JC looked amused, but a little puzzled. "Chris. It's heaven."

***

About a week after JC's first visit, Chris woke up to a bone-shattering booming noise. He'd never heard anything like it, but that didn't matter - it was Jungian, it was primal. It was a sound that said 'I have sharp, sharp teeth, and my mouth is bigger than your entire body'.

Chris clapped both hands over his mouth to muffle his squealing. Not for the first time, he cursed his freakishly high, eat-me voice.

"I'm not as tasty as I look," he said loudly, in case the Thing understood English. He tried to make it sound nonchalant though, like he said that kind of stuff all the time. You never knew when there might be reporters lurking around outside the window.

The booming noise happened again, and Chris thought for a second he was going to have a heart attack for real. _I never finished Super Metroid_, he thought. _I never told Justin where I hid his sweater_.

The next boom made the room shake. Bits of plaster rained down around Chris's head. Earthquake, he thought. Earthquake, earthquake, earthquake... earthquake in metronome-perfect 3/4 time.

"JC?" he squeaked.

JC kind of melted into the room. His face was shining. "Dude, I worked out a way to knock!"

Chris flopped back against his pillow. He felt kind of floaty, he thought. Like someone in a chick flick. Or like himself on double espressos. There were little black dots circling in front of his eyes. "No kidding," he said weakly.

"Yeah! And man, there was some funky physics involved! And I can make atoms _dance_ now. I mean - I probably shouldn't be saying this - but dude, I can make them _dance_! Oh, I gotta tell Lance it worked!"

"Uh huh," Chris said. He pulled himself together a bit. "Well, um. Why don't you call him right now, and I'll just wake up a bit. A bit more. Than I'm already awake."

"Oh sure," JC said. He sat on the edge of Chris's bed and patted Chris's shoulder. "Take as long as you like."

Chris nodded. His eyes wouldn't seem to close, so he stared at the ceiling and maybe zoned out a bit because when he was feeling non-floaty again, JC had moved past the "Three am, no kidding! Sorry dude!" part of the conversation, and moved onto: "No, at Chris's place. No, he's still- Yeah! Yeah, I did - just like you said! No, but he kind of _yelped_. He kind of... Actually, can you hold on a second?"

JC's face appeared in Chris's field of vision suddenly. "You're really freaked," he said.

"Am not," Chris said defensively. "Don't fucking touch me, don't _touch_ me," he added as JC lifted his hand.

"I'm not, I'm not," JC murmured. "I'm not." He hovered his hand over Chris's chest, and Chris felt a wave of peace ease over him like warm water. He breathed out for what felt like the first time since he'd woken up.

"Hey," JC said softly. "Better?"

"Yeah," Chris said. "I- yeah."

JC's face crinkled into a smile, and Chris's heart did the crazy stutter thing all over again. "Lance wants to go to IHOP? You wanna go to IHOP?" JC said.

Chris swallowed. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I do."

***

Lance brought Joey and Justin too, because like he said, "They'll just bitch if we don't tell them he's back."

They bitched anyway.

"I don't understand why you didn't tell us before," Justin said. "It's _C_."

Chris opened his mouth guiltily, and then realized that Justin was doing the heartfelt puppy-eyes at Lance. So Chris closed his mouth and tried to look hurt like Justin instead.

"Well-" Lance started.

"And don't even say I was busy. You _know_ I'd make time." He looked at JC. "You _know_ I'd make time for you."

JC looked up from staring lustfully at Justin's waffles. "Oh honey," he said. "I'm sorry. I've tried so hard, but I guess I'm still working out the kinks of the whole space-time continuum thing, you know? Space is so whacked, man! I keep materializing in Chris's attic. Dude-" he looked at Chris. "I found your Olivia Newton John poster! Also, you got some _creepy_-ass bugs up there, dawg. You don't _even_ wanna know."

Lance raised an eyebrow. "Olivia Newton John poster?"

"Bugs?" Chris said.

"Hey!" Justin smacked Chris on the arm. "He visited you too?"

***

The trick, Chris told himself, was to approach the whole thing like a military mission.

He dressed carefully and with a sense of ritual in his 1980s camouflage jumpsuit; the one with the bleach stain down the leg. His mom had begged him to throw it out already, but he'd resisted. Somehow he'd just known this day would come.

He'd even done a little recon - climbed up through the hatch in the laundry, seen something skitter along the floor, and fallen backwards onto the dryer. And maybe that meant the bugs had drawn first blood, but Chris was ready now. And armed. He had extra strength bug spray. He had some gauzy material over his head that he'd found in the craft section at Walmart. He looked at himself in the mirror and nodded grimly. "The Exterminator," he told his reflection. "Ready to do battle."

When JC showed up, Chris was still in the motivating-himself part of the mission, standing on the dryer, chanting: 'Don't be a pussy, don't be a pussy."

"I know, I know," Chris said, when he was sure neither of them had broken their backs. He climbed carefully back onto the dryer. "You're still working out the kinks."

"Look, it's hard, okay? There's math involved." JC sounded a bit snappish. His knees had hit the floor first, and there was a small tear in his capris.

Chris rolled his eyes, but he patted JC's shoulder to show he really did appreciate the moral support. Then he gave JC a hand up onto the dryer because he really wanted to appreciate JC being first into the attic too.

"So I was thinking maybe we could go out," JC said as he hoisted himself up through the hatch in the ceiling. His skinny legs dangled in front of Chris's face, and Chris fought the natural urge to pants JC, or better still, give him a wedgie. He couldn't mess around though. This wasn't the time for fun and games. He had to focus. There was a mission at stake.

"Do you see anything?" he said, when JC was all the way up.

"Nope."

"Hear anything? Anything moving? Remember, bugs are crafty. If they see any kind of opening, they'll attack. You gotta be vigilant."

"I don't see anything, Chris! I can't even see my feet!"

Chris passed the flashlight up, shuddering when his hand brushed the edge of the open hatch. "What about eggs? Like bug eggs that could hatch into huge bug swarms? You see any of those?"

JC squealed suddenly, and Chris nearly fell over again.

"Oh fuck, I saw one! I saw one!" JC shrieked.

Chris whimpered. "Stomp on it!"

"I- Ow!" JC said.

Chris squinted up. JC seemed to be frozen with one foot in the air, like he was going to do the crane kick from The Karate Kid. "Stomp on it, JC!" Chris said again.

"I don't think I can," JC said. "It must be against the rules."

In the end, Chris and JC drank beer on the sofa while Lance went up into the attic with a flashlight as long as his arm, and some kind of super-crazy-strength bug spray that he'd illegally brought back from Russia.

After an hour of crashing noises and Chris saying "It's _Lance_," whenever JC said "Do you think he needs a hand?" Lance came into the living room, carrying a shoe box.

"We don't want to know what's in there, do we?" Chris said.

"Nope," Lance said. His usually perfect hair was very slightly disordered, and that scared Chris more than anything.

After Lance left, Chris couldn't stop thinking about the shoe box, and maybe neither could JC, because the beer bottles starting piling up on the coffee table.

"You think there were roaches in there?" Chris said some time during the fourth or fifth beer.

"I'd say palmetto bugs," JC said, nodding his head knowledgably. "Although, I didn't notice any smell coming from the box, and palmettos usually stink when you squash them. So maybe Lance didn't kill them. Maybe they were still wriggling around and alive in there." He cocked his head. "Then again, I don't seem to have the same sense of smell anymore."

Chris swallowed his beer carefully. "Do you mind if we drink in silence for a while?"

"Oh no, man, not at all!"

The silence only lasted until Chris opened the next bottle - he'd never been very good at sitting quietly. "Did I tell you about the time this chick at the gas station blew me on the way to work?" he said.

"No!" JC sounded delighted. And he was totally lying, except not really, because JC loved sex stories. So Chris told it again, adding all kinds of details like how her mouth was really hot and wet, and how she redid her lipstick in a little hand mirror while Chris was still zipping up his pants. He took his time with the blowjob description itself, because he was just a good friend like that, and he even made up some stuff about how she hadn't been wearing a bra and how Chris been able to see her nipples through her shirt.

"Have you ever noticed that the best blowjobs are the ones you don't expect?" JC said dreamily. He was slouched back against the cushions. When he took another pull from his bottle, Chris caught a glimpse of the dark, wet inside of his mouth.

Chris wet his own lips. "I- I guess," he said.

JC smiled at him a little shyly. "I'm glad I came back."

"Me too," Chris said.

JC's smile widened slowly, and for just a moment between breaths, it felt like something different, something new. And then Chris blinked, and JC shifted his weight a little, and it was almost normal again.

Chris swallowed. "You- um." He gestured lamely. "Your wings. Does it hurt to lean back on them like that?"

JC shifted his weight again. "Nah, they just fold up. It's comfortable. They're real soft."

"Oh," Chris said. He tried to make his face look like he wasn't picturing JC naked on a big pile of feathers. Not that there was a specific expression for that, he thought blurrily. Then he blurted out, "They're hot, man," and ruined all the effort he'd put into his expression.

"Oh. Hey. Hey, man," JC said. He patted Chris's arm and beamed like it was a huge compliment. "Dude!"

In some ways though, it was kind of like old times - back before they were in Germany even. It was like when they'd come home from rehearsal too wired to sleep, and talk and watch crappy movies for hours and hours.

They talked about Moby's new sound, about what BT was doing, about their moms, about how the cheese in Japan had been weirdly uncheesy.

"You know what's really weird though," JC said. "I can't taste anything anymore."

Chris frowned, even though JC didn't sound too upset.

"I mean, I can taste stuff, but it's all kind of the same taste. Even this beer. Even pizza pockets."

"You can't taste pizza pockets?" Chris said, appalled. "Why do they call it heaven if there aren't any pizza pockets? Shouldn't they have to call it something else?"

"You would think," JC said. He giggled. "I guess 'hell' was already taken."

Thunder cracked outside suddenly, making them both jump, and JC flush and look at Chris guiltily. "Rules," he muttered.

***

And then maybe they kept drinking after they should have stopped.

"Hey. You want me to do my impression of the angel Gabriel?" JC said when Chris came back from the kitchen with more beer.

Chris nodded enthusiastically. He was a sucker for crappy impressions - especially JC's drunk impressions, which mostly involved JC standing on his head, singing, and falling over giggling.

***

"So I was wondering" Chris said, around his ninth or tenth beer. The room was bobbing up and down in time to his stereo, but he still felt fairly okay. "I'm not exactly sure how to put this delicately, but do you still have all the goods?"

JC choked. "Do I _what_?"

"You know-" Chris pointed at JC's crotch and waggled his eyebrows significantly. "The goods, man. Is everything still intact?"

"Yes, Chris," JC said, strangely clearly for someone who was matching Chris drink for drink. "I still have all my stuff. Do I even want to know why you're asking?"

"Oh totally," Chris assured him. "It's because I'm hot for you. It's been going on for a while now. I guess I was going to tell you before, but then the wings thing happened, and I didn't want to interfere with your emotional journey - I mean, all power to your spiritual self!"

"Um. Thanks, man," JC said.

Chris nodded encouragingly. "And don't get me wrong, I'd still love you if you were a dickless eunuch, and I'm sure we could work something out with like dildos or something. Not-" Chris hastened to add, "That I'm exclusively a 'bottom' or anything." He did the little quotes in the air. "You know me, man, I don't subscribe to binary oppositions. But sometimes, I just really like to take it up the ass. So if anything ever happens between us, it's good to know you're still all there." He patted JC's shoulder fondly. "I'm kind of gay," he added, in case JC wasn't clear.

***

He maybe fell asleep after that, because the next thing he knew, he was lying on the sofa with the throw rug tucked neatly around him, and his brain was trying to explode out of his head.

JC was asleep on the floor, drooling on Chris's carpet. His wings were all fluffed-up and comfortable-looking like a blanket on top of him.

"Mmff," Chris said.

"Mmh," JC replied. His eyes blinked slowly open. "Where- Oh! Oh fuck! What time is it? Oh _fuck_." He struggled to his feet and disappeared.

Then was a crack of thunder and JC was back again, stumbling a bit. "Hey!" he said. His face was shining. "You came out to me! Dude!" He wrapped his arms around Chris - throw rug and all. "I'm so honored and stuff! We'll go somewhere! Tonight! Okay? Okay?"

"Mmff," Chris said.

JC nodded enthusiastically. Then there was another crack of thunder and he was gone again.

***

"So I told JC I wanted him to fuck me," Chris told Justin after the aspirin kicked in. He waited for Justin to stop choking. "Also, I may have mentioned something about dildos," he added. Justin's choking didn't sound like it was going to stop any time soon, so Chris put the phone down carefully, and got himself an orange juice.

When he came back, Justin was saying complete words, like: "-might have fallen for that when I was 14, Chris. Anyway, I gotta go do this shoot. Love you, man!"

"Love you too," Chris mumbled. He was utterly mortified that he hadn't thought of pranking Justin like this when he was 14. It would have been comedy gold.

Justin rang back an hour later. "So I talked to JC," he said.

"Yeah?" Chris said. He was watching the Ascension Channel. A girl in a floaty white dress was kissing her family and saying, "You never have to make any choices when you're up there. It's a place of utter peace." Her mom was crying a bit, but the girl was shining with happiness.

"He fucking materialized behind me in the mirror while I was doing my hair," Justin said. "I nearly had a heart attack. Also, my hair's been really weird since." Justin made some patting sounds, like he was pushing down his curls. "I think the shock was too much for it."

"So you talked to JC," Chris prompted.

"Seriously, I might have to shave it again. It's all like sticking up."

"Justin!"

"What? Oh yeah. Anyway, he told me - this is in total confidence, by the way, - you can't tell him I told you. Anyway, he said he was totally up for- um. Your proposition or whatever."

"Wait. What? My proposition. What?"

"Well, I don't know _all_ the details man, geez. But I just want you to know I totally support you. Also, I'm pretty sure he's been hot for you for a while. He's been talking about your thighs since I was like 17. Seriously, if I had a dollar for every time he mentioned your thighs, I'd- Oh hey, you don't need any sex tips, do you? Because - like, not to be conceited or anything - but I'm really good."

"Okay, you know what? I have to process. In my head. So I'm going to hang up now."

"Oh! Sure, sure. And like, of course you're fine in the sack, man. I'm sure you would be very good." Justin sounded a little unconvinced. "But seriously, any time you need any tips. I mean it. I'm here for you both."

***

Chris and JC ended up going to Frenetic, because it had a great VIP area, and JC loved the Snickers drinks. He was kind of a girl like that.

"So," JC said. He leaned in and touched Chris's collarbone with one finger - he was always very touchy-feely when he was drinking. "Yes to sex, no to dildos. Well, to start with anyway."

Chris choked and sprayed his drink all over himself.

"Okay, wow. That was kind of gross," JC said. He patted Chris's back. "Lucky for you, I've seen you like projectile vomiting and stuff, or that would be a real turn-off."

Later, with his wings spread wide beneath him, and Chris inside him, JC looked up at Chris and smiled. "Wanted this forever, man."

It was like a dream.

***

It took some time, but after a while, Chris got pretty used to JC dropping in unannounced. One time, JC materialized neatly in the passenger seat of Chris's golf buggy. Chris didn't even flinch. "You're getting good at this."

"Yup," JC said proudly.

Another time, JC appeared while Chris was looking at Lance's latest photo shoot.

"Whoa," JC said. "That. Whoa."

"Tell me about it!" Chris said. "And look at this one."

They went through the whole shoot together, muttering things like "Go back to the one where- Yeah. Oh yeah." And "His fucking _mouth_."

Then they had sex.

Afterwards, Chris lay flat on his back, panting. "That wasn't like a sin or anything was it?"

"Nah," JC said comfortably. He was running his fingers through Chris's chest hair. He patted Chris's belly reassuringly. "We're good."

"Mm," Chris said. He arched his back happily. "So you think Lance is hot?"

"Duh," JC said. "Like that one where he was kneeling in the sand."

"And he was kind of pouting? Yeah," Chris said, and stopped arching abruptly. Maybe it was just a post-sex thing, but he suddenly felt kind of sick. "You think you'd wanna do him?"

JC shrugged, his warm skin sliding against Chris's. "He's hot," he said. "But I guess I prefer-"

"What?"

"Well if you'd let me finish the sentence," JC said sharply.

"Well? What? What? You prefer what? Buffer guys? Guys with bigger dicks? What?"

JC's skin was heating up against him, like he was blushing. "Never mind."

"What, what, what, what, whatwhatwhatwhatwhat?"

"You! Geez Chris. I like _you_, okay?"

"You like me?" Chris said. He grinned and rolled over to face JC. "You _like_ me?"

"Goddamn, you're annoying."

"Mm," Chris said. He put his hand on JC's thigh. "You wanna go again?"

***

Not that Chris wasn't a good guy. He was even quite hot in the right light and when he was wearing the right clothes. But he'd never thought he was the kind of guy who could make JC grin goofily just because he'd laughed at one of JC's jokes.

"He's always looked at you like that," Lance said. They were playing golf because Chris liked golf and Lance liked guys in tight white pants. "We just assumed you didn't want him back."

"You-" Chris spun around. "You guys thought I didn't want JC? Are you morons?"

"You realize everything you're saying right now is kind of undermined by that stupid hat you're wearing, right?"

"I'm aware of that, yes," Chris said with what he hoped was a measure of dignity.

***

He didn't really care so much about the dignity though. Because apparently he was also the kind of guy who could have JC moving above him, his mouth half open, panting against Chris's skin.

"Come back with me," JC said later, drowsily.

Chris dipped down and covered JC's mouth with his own. "No pizza pockets," he reminded him.

JC laughed up at him, and Chris smiled back helplessly. "It's not like that," JC said. He pushed and twisted and rolled, using his wings for leverage, until Chris was lying under him. "They have golf and stuff. You'd like it."

"No crazy parties," Chris said. "No violent movies."

JC kissed the base of Chris's neck. "No crazy fans," he said. He kissed Chris's collarbone. "No pressure." He kissed Chris's chest. "Seriously, it's like being at the best resort you ever went to. Just blue water and empty beaches and good people."

Chris reached up and traced the line of JC's face. "Maybe some day," he said.

***

The next night started okay, with both of them going to a new jazz bar, and JC jamming with the band. But in the parking lot, there was a guy getting beaten up, and Chris was moving towards him before he could even think about it.

Beside him, JC said, "Stop it!" clearly, and then "Oh," in a tone of such distress that Chris almost tripped over turning to him.

JC took a step towards him, but it was slow and clumsy, like he was walking through caramel. He started to take another step, but this time he couldn't seem to move forward at all. "Stop that right now," he said helplessly.

One of the guys laughed. And then Chris's blood was singing in his ears, and he was throwing hard, satisfying punches, and then it was just him and JC and a bleeding stranger in the parking lot.

"Oh shit, oh shit," JC was saying. "Oh fuck, Chris. He's not breathing right."

"Can you heal him?" Chris said.

"I- I'm not supposed-" JC looked at Chris, and flinched hard. "Yeah. Yes." JC knelt down and put his hand over the guy's chest, and the guy started breathing properly almost straight away.

Chris drove to the hospital. He put his hand on JC's knee a couple of times, but JC was staring resolutely out of the window. He looked strangely bleached of color.

"You riding with me?" Chris said, after the nurse had come into the waiting room and said that the guy really was fine, and his mom was coming to pick him up.

JC opened his mouth, and then closed it. He shook his head.

"JC?" Chris touched his arm.

JC didn't look up. "I have to go. And um. I might have to stay away for a while."

***

JC was in Chris's kitchen the next morning, eating Lucky Charms. There were pamphlets all over the kitchen table - _So You Want Wings_, _Thinking About A Career Change?_, _Life With Wings_, _(After)Life Solutions For Everyone_, _The Heavenly Choir Wants YOU_.

"Just hear me out," JC said, before Chris could even open his mouth. "I could sponsor you - you're totally a good person. There's no reason you couldn't come back with me."

Chris sighed. He put his hand over JC's, and JC flinched, his eyes skittering over Chris's bruised knuckles.

JC's jaw clenched. "You can!" he said, sounding defiant. "You're a good person. You- _Please_, Chris."

"JC-"

"No! I know you think there's only boring people up there, but they have humor! They have stand-up comedians, even. You'd like it, I promise. And it's quiet. It's so quiet there. No fans. No reporters. No one ever wants anything from you."

"That's not-" Chris shook his head helplessly. "The quiet - that's not even something I want."

JC scrubbed his free hand over his eyes. "You- It's not just that. Chris, you know what this world is like. There's pain and there's sickness. It's not like that up there. No one's ever scared or hungry. No one's ever cruel. You could be happy forever." His voice cracked a little. "With me. If you wanted."

He looked at Chris, and his eyes were so vulnerable that Chris let himself imagine it, just for a moment: forever with JC in a place where the sun always shone and nothing bad ever happened to anyone.

Then he breathed out and let it go. And his whole body ached with the loss. "It's not that I don't want to," he said. He felt JC's hand start to shake under his own, and he squeezed it, willing JC to understand. "But I can't. Not yet - later, yes. Definitely, later. But right now I haven't lived my life. And I know this world isn't perfect - I know that. But I can't just. I can't just watch, and not _do_ anything." He looked down at his hand, over JC's. "Maybe _you_ could come back."

"It's not that simple," JC said quietly. "Look." He swallowed. "They've given me- it's not an ultimatum. But I can't. I can't come back."

Chris nodded, and then kept nodding like he understood. His heart felt like a bruise inside him.

"Please, Chris," JC said again.

Chris wanted to say yes - he'd never wanted anything so much in his life. He drew a shaky breath instead. "I love you," he said.

JC made a quiet, hurt sound. And then he really was gone.

***

The days blurred, and Chris let them. Sometimes he ate and sometimes he didn't. One time, he looked up, and Justin was sitting on the sofa next to him, patting his hand, and saying: "It's hard for him too. And-" Justin sighed. "There's a lot of rules, Chris. And like protocol and stuff. It's almost as hard to get out as it is to get in."

"Oh," Chris said. "When- um-" He stopped and waited for his thoughts to coalesce. His mind seemed to be moving slowly lately, like a river without a current. "When did you get here?"

Justin's face creased worriedly. "Chris, I've been here for three days."

***

Kind of in the same way, Chris found himself at an Ascension Center one morning.

"We'll have to do a spiritual credit check, of course," the guy at the desk said. His wings were tucked severely behind him, and he looked a little like Chris's fourth grade math teacher, Mr McDonald.

"Actually, you know what-" Chris started, but the guy was already typing, blurry-fast.

"Huh," the guy said. He looked at Chris over the frame of his glasses, and for a second, he looked exactly like Mr McDonald had the time Chris had aced the fraction test that everyone else had failed. "Very well. If you will take this." He slid open a hard-backed book about the size of a large dictionary. It was a little like a Bible inside - with numbered paragraphs, and-

Chris blanched. "That's a contract!"

"No, no, nothing so vulgar." The Mr McDonald-guy chuckled. "It's merely an expression of interest. Now then-" He looked over his glasses again, bright-eyed with something that seemed very close to greed. "Now then, if you'll sign here. And here. And here." He flipped some pages. "And here. And-" He opened up a drawer in his desk and brought out a bright, silver scalpel. "You'll need this. For the blood."

"I- blood?" Chris squeaked.

"Yes, I've read your file." He looked sympathetic. "But Mr Kirkpatrick, you have to understand, there needs to be some kind of preliminary covenant - we can't just go giving wings to everyone."

Chris rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Okay. I'm going to need my lawyer to take a look at it."

"I promise you, it's just a standard preliminary contract."

"Yes, and if you could just send a copy of it to Andrew Pennington at Davis and Pennington, I could verify that."

***

"Hi Chris, it's Andrew. This is one detailed mother, dude - you have no idea. But I've got three of our best people working on it, so we should have something for you in a couple of months."

***

Joey's idea of cheering Chris up was to buy him ice-cream and talk about how hot JC was. "Did the wings make a difference?" Joey said. He was wearing a t-shirt that said 'I'm fucking your boyfriend.' Chris had a nasty feeling that he'd given it to Joey himself as a joke. "Like when you were having sex?"

"Joey!"

"No, c'mon!" Joey said. "I'm just interested. I care about your life, man."

The annoying thing was, Joey really did care. So Chris pretended to be cheered up a bit, and even miserable, he could still crack a smile when Joey prank-called Lance from the public phone outside.

***

He went past the Ascension Center every day - deliberately at first, and then out of habit. Sometimes he went in and held the scalpel against his finger. Sometimes he stood outside and pretended he could see JC in the reflection of the windows. Sometimes he got a pizza from the place next door. Sometimes he just kept walking.

One afternoon, there was a homeless guy outside the building with a card that said 'It's Not Your Time'.

"They don't eat up there, you know," the man said to Chris. "They don't love. They don't do anything but watch us."

Chris gave the guy a fifty, and then, as an afterthought, he gave him the pack of gum in his pocket too. "I think um. I think they still love," he said. "You're right about the food though - they don't eat too good up there."

"You lost someone too," the man said. He sounded strangely far away, like he was the one who was lost.

Chris closed his eyes. "Yeah."

***

He lost track of time a little, so he wasn't sure if it was the next day or the next week or the next month. But one day, Chris came downstairs, and JC was on his sofa eating Cheetos.

Chris blinked, and JC was still there, and Chris realized for the first time that even though Lance and Andrew and everyone he knew had been working on it, he'd never really expected to see JC again. He swallowed. "I thought you said you weren't coming back."

JC grinned at him. There were orange crumbs on his lips. "I said it would be hard," he said with his mouth full. "But I underestimated myself, man! It was so easy - I just grabbed a bag of Cheetos from 7-11 and walked out without paying. Don't know why I didn't think of it before."

"You stole those Cheetos?" Chris said, scandalized.

"Uh huh," JC said. He grinned proudly and licked his fingers. "Man, I've been craving salt so bad. It's weird what you miss when you're up there."

Now that Chris was looking properly, he could see that JC's narrow shoulders were smooth and he was wearing a normal shirt. The unearthly glow was gone too.

"You- This doesn't mean you're going." Chris pointed at the floor. "You know."

JC just laughed. "No, no, this was just a formality, man. This was just red-tape stuff. Everyone up there is totally rootin' for us. Like, seriously we're Romeo and Juliet. They did a play and everything!"

Chris's face felt odd, and it took him a moment to realize he was smiling. "Bullshit!"

"No for serious! You were played by James Dean!"

"See, now you're just fuckin' with me," Chris said. He felt strangely light. He was even laughing a little as he crossed the room and put his arms around JC. And JC felt just the same as he always did - all hard muscles and fine bones and so beautiful he broke Chris's heart.

"Your wings," Chris said. He touched JC's back tentatively.

"It's okay," JC said. "It doesn't hurt or anything. I wouldn't even know they were gone except for the weight."

"Are you going to miss them?" Chris said seriously.

JC shook his head. "I wasn't much good at flying. Why do you think I did the materializing thing all the time."

Chris slid his hand up to JC's shoulder. It was hard to believe he was really touching him; that JC was really there. "What about the peace and quiet? Are you going to miss that?"

"Yeah," JC smiled at him. "But-" he kissed the corner of Chris's mouth gently. "Not as much as I missed you."

Chris turned his head a little so he could kiss JC back. "Missed you," he said.

"Mm," JC said. "I can taste you!" He laughed, sounding surprised. "I forgot what that was like." He nuzzled his mouth against Chris's. "Kiss me again," he murmured. "And then let's go kill some bugs or something. Have sex. Save some lives."

"I'd like that," Chris said.

The end.

~~~  
_ But darling there you go, slipping away into a state of grace.  
Granted, this world is not a perfect place  
Still it's the world that I'm in._

State of Grace -- Billy Joel.  



End file.
